Triptych
by Pierides
Summary: Let them play at unawares, and we shall see who wins in this sly game of bluff: Jonathan, Scarecrow, or Becky. One plays to covet, two for a prize unnamed. Yet could the wants of all be the same? And can two become whole again? :Jon/Becky:
1. I

_(A/N): Becky Albright is a character from the comic, "Mistress of Fear" a comic featured in the DC published, "Scarecrow Tales". Nolanized her appearance is based off actress Rachel McAdams._

_Disclaimer: Warner Bros., Nolan, and DC own everything except plot and my interpretations._

* * *

_**I saw the sea inside you:**_

_**on your surface, mud.**_

--"Fons" by Pura López-Colomé--

* * *

Fiery and tasseled curls; never tamed, always a mind of their own, even when restrained. Jonathan Crane lifted his head and regarded the young woman as she came in and sat demurely in front of his desk.

He offered her a smile, being polite and held out his hand. Once that procedure was done he readjusted his glasses and glanced down at the resume she had brought in with her.

_Rebecca D. Albright._

What an unassuming name. His eyes flickered back to her face, freckled, plain. Innocent.

"Ms. Albright, let's begin with the basics, shall we?"

What secrets laid beneath such a quiet face?


	2. II

_**We wear the mask that grins and lies,  
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes…**_

--"We Wear the Mask" by Paul Laurence Dunbar--

* * *

Id, Ego, Super Ego; Sigmund Freud was correct in citing these existing forces of personality. Everyone had a mask, a part of themselves that craved the illogical and wanted nothing more than self-satisfaction. No was not an answer one gave to those driven by the instincts of the Id.

Staring into those glassy, blue eyes—a shocking and strident feature against his pale skin and dark hair—she knew one thing about Dr. Jonathan Crane: he was definitely a psychologist.

Those eyes bore into her, a stare that was filled with the desire to know, the ability to read her. They shocked her nerves and elicited goose bumps. Yet something else flitted in those eyes, hidden, but sparking right beneath the surface. It made her body react as her instincts sensed danger, but at the same time drew her in as he smiled.

In the darkest corners of her mind, Becky was curious as to what was under Jonathan's mask. Yet her Super ego fought off the thought as her Ego stood like a third party, uncertain as to whom to give their loyalty, wisely, some would say.


	3. III

_**Nature's first green is gold,**_

_**Her hardest hue to hold.**_

--"Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost--

* * *

A soft knock came to his office door. His hand paused in writing; he slid the paper he'd been scribbling on under another before peering up, eyes shifting to the doorway.

"Yes, come in."

He nodded to Rebecca as she entered, carrying a folder.

"Joe Cooler's medical file, as requested, Dr. Crane," she placed the dark brown folder on his desk.

"Thank you, Ms. Albright, now could you please go and check my appointments? After that you can go home early. Consider it my gift for the anniversary of you having worked here a month."

She nodded and turned to leave. He watched and when the soft click of the door met his ears, he raised his hand up and nimbly removed his glasses. He placed an elbow atop the desk and leaned forward, eyes never leaving the doorway.

"She's an interesting one, Jonny, so naïve. It's a pity that innocence has to go, hm?" He smirked viciously.


	4. IV

_**Either as or, we live a common person.  
Two is still one. It cannot live apart.**_

--"Clemente's Images" by Robert Creeley--

* * *

Sometimes _**he**_ wanted out to play. Sometimes Jonathan stopped him. Sometimes he escaped anyway.

He was mischievous, he was daring, and he was just one half of Jonathan Crane that had separated from the whole, until two beings were created. They co-existed well enough, both Jonathan Crane, both not.

Jonathan bypassed Rebecca as he left for the night, tipping his head to her in courtesy. Within him _**he**_ bristled.

_**Delicate little flower, isn't she? I wonder if her screams are just as sweet…**_

Jonathan ignored him. He had learned to over the years, but tonight the other chuckled.

_**Oh, denial…I want what you want, Jonny, and there are plenty of screams one can elicit from a person, not just those of terror…**_

Jonathan pursed his lips. He clenched his jaw at the implication of those words.

Sometimes he believed Scarecrow enjoyed making him uncomfortable. He felt Scarecrow smile at the accusation. Of course he did.


	5. V

_**How Human Nature dotes  
On what it can't detect.  
The moment that a Plot is plumbed  
Prospective is extinct –**_

--"How Human Nature Dotes" by Emily Dickinson--

* * *

It echoed in every step of her foot upon the hard, reflective floors. She heard it in every beat of her heart and the rhythm her breaths. It even hummed in the air. Never was it more present, however, than in the gaze of her employer.

She could swear that there were times when his gaze darkened. No longer were his eyes a clear blue, but a shade darker. Smiles that had been stiff and formal almost stretched like the grin of a Cheshire Cat. He had to be unaware she noticed these changes—sometimes witnessing them occasionally from her periphery. Yet they were there.

Rebecca valued her ability to read people, but Jonathan Crane was proving difficult. It just didn't make sense.

How could it be that one moment it seemed as he was unconsciously trying to analyze her and in the next as if he wanted to devour her?


	6. VI

_**`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves  
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:  
All mimsy were the borogoves,  
And the mome raths outgrabe.**_

--"The Jabberwocky" by Lewis Carroll--

* * *

Jonathan could never hide her from him. Even within the confines of his mind and through the window of his eyes he watched her: the fiery nymph.

She walked with a slight limp; he had seen her with a cane, but physical shortcomings did not halt him. In fact, he was even more intrigued.

Jonathan had protested earlier that morning, but it was in vain. Scarecrow was soon enough in control and carrying out Jon's regular routine with one minor adjustment. As he entered into Arkham he grinned to see Rebecca there hard at work. He picked his way calmly and sat the bag he was holding on the counter beside her.

The change in her expression was minor, but he caught it. A flash of uncertainty flitted through her eyes when they met his. Her body minutely tensed in apprehension; in fright. She knew, she may not understand what she knew, but she did. He smiled charmingly at her and then left, hearing her open the bag—he had bought her a wheat bagel with almond cream cheese; her favorite.

Once within his office he turned around to peer into the oval mirror that hung on the wall.

"What an interesting little mouse. Don't worry, Jonny, I won't harm her but I want to play."


	7. VII

_**` The stealthy shadows crept closer,  
They clutched at the hem of Jill's gown;  
And there at the very top she stumbled,  
**__**And Jack came shuddering down.  
**_--"Walter De La Mare Tells His Listeners about _Jack and Jill_" by Louis Untermeyer--

* * *

Alone he had faced pale eyes, the hue of his own filled with contempt. She never had to speak for her hatred to be known; it permeated the house like the smell of honeysuckles in the summer. That smell had come to mean pain for him. The aviary had been filled with honeysuckles.

The metallic odor of blood mixed with the sweetness of the flowers was enough, causing him to pale and shudder at just a mere recall.

Jonathan curled atop his bed as memories plagued him, haunted his sleeping hour.

That had been his grandmother. Sherry Squires and Bo Griggs came next, the two that stood out amongst his child tormentors. He remembered what happened to them. It had been an accident, a tale he had never told anyone.

He remembered the orange, hot flames and he bolted up in bed, sweating profusely, heart thundering. He could still see the glow of the fire engulfing the car, a startling contrasting against the southern darkness of his hometown.

He had despised them. Sherry had betrayed him for Bo, played him like a fiddle. He had only wanted to scare them, to take just an ounce of revenge when he had dressed up and spooked them on prom night. He knew they would flee, but he had never meant for Bo to drive into a head-on collision. He hadn't meant to kill her, he hadn't meant it. No one deserved that, he…

He had only wanted to frighten them; it had been innocent, childhood payback. He had never meant for it to end like it had.

_**You were never alone…I was there. You were a child, Jonathan, it was an accident…**_

Those words, however, never quite relieved the guilt no matter how often they were spoken.


	8. VIII

_**I've stayed in the front yard all my life.  
**__**I want a peek at the back  
**__**Where it's rough and untended and hungry weed grows.  
**__**A girl gets sick of a rose.  
**_--"a song in the front yard" by Gwendolyn Brooks--

* * *

She felt absolutely ridiculous applying make-up in the bathroom of Arkham Asylum. Yet that wasn't anywhere near the embarrassment she felt when she pulled the dress from the garment bag she'd also brought into the restroom with her.

A violet dress, it was a simple cut, but was sleeve-less and required zipping in the back. She bit her lip and quickly disrobed—maybe she'd be able to fasten it and then pull it up.

She tried, and immediately found no luck. She flushed and stared in the mirror at herself. Why had she decided to pick the one dress that had to be zipped up to wear to her mother's birthday? What was she going to do? For a few moments she just stared in the mirror, wondering if she should walk to the door and call for some help; surely one of the nurses would help her. All the while she clutched the dress to her chest.

A knock at the door jolted her. This was a public restroom; more than one person could be in the room.

"Ms. Albright, are you alright?" Her face turned a darker shade of red as Jonathan's voice came from the other side of the door.

"Um, yeah, I'm alright." She replied, but steeling herself she added. "Uh, Dr. Crane, actually I have a bit of problem…"

"Do you need any help?"

Becky walked to the door and took a deep breath. "I…need someone to zip up the back of my dress. Can you do it?" Her heart thudded as silence fell. "Or you can get someone else to-"

"Open the door."

She clutched the top of her dress tighter to herself as her other hand pushed the door open. She looked down, and saw Jonathan's foot catch it before it swung back on her. Without looking up, she turned around and presented her back to him. She stiffened slightly when she felt his cool fingertips at the nape of her neck, but relaxed as he merely brushed her hair over her right shoulder. Then he began to pull the zipper up her back. Her heart continued to thud, even after she felt him stop. She turned around and slowly raised her face to his.

"Thanks." Her breath caught at the look in his eyes as he smiled and nodded. They were that darkened shade again. She quickly turned and began gather her things, her face once again burning. She felt his eyes on her figure as she moved about, and she was a little perturbed. Not because he was looking, but because she wanted him to.


	9. IX

_**Yet what an aura surrounds you;  
**__**Your evil little aura, prowling, and casting a numbness on my mind..."  
**_--"The Mosquito" by D.H. Lawrence--

* * *

Seeing and feeling the shock and abashment overcome Jon, was the funniest thing Scarecrow had ever witnessed in the years he'd shared the man's conscious. Jon's want was there, Scarecrow could feel it, but humility and chivalry held him back.

She'd asked **him** to help though, for heaven's sakes!

'Let me take over here, Jonny-boy. I won't touch her inappropriately. Don't want to scare the mouse away, after all.'

Perhaps it was anxiety that let him escape so easily. He wasn't complaining.

"Open the door," he replied, skillful with the intonation of Jon's voice just as Becky attempted to diverge to save her own composure. His usual baritone was hardly removed from the other's tenor, but it was deeper and he still held a grasp on the Southern, Georgian twang Jon had lost in his years in Gotham.

The bathroom opened and Scarecrow saw her stare at the floor. He could feel the embarrassment rolling off her. It was quite adorable. He caught the door with his foot and she turned around. Scarecrow glanced down the length of her back and his hands caressed the nape of her neck as they gathered her hair. She stiffened and Scarecrow chuckled to himself, gently tucking the crimson curls over her shoulder.

There was something unmistakably alluring about the curve of her spine, and though he itched to touch, his fingers only took the zipper next and without halt slid it up her back, binding the cloth together. She pulled away when he had finished and turned to him, demurely raising her gaze to his.

He hid it until she turned away, but his eyes widened. Jonathan choked within as well. The plum dress was heavenly on her. Scarecrow did not retreat as he took in her figure, body now against the doorway, waiting for her to exit the restroom. He stared unabashedly and Jonathan did not argue. He smirked.

'See, Jonny, I was good, but our mouse is very tempting.'


	10. X

_**Such skinny limbs and such a little heart  
Which would have been content with one warm kiss  
Had there been anyone to offer this.  
**_--"Incendiary" by Vernon Scannell**--

* * *

**

Jonathan had lied upon his decorative couch, reading the most recent publication of the American Psychologist Association. The feeling of lunch in his stomach along with the warmth of sunlight filtering through his office windows gave him a sense of sluggish content. He'd only closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy his rarely found relaxation, but without warning soon he was swept away.

He was not sure how long he had been napping when the sound of movement awoke him. He felt the fuzziness of sleep still embracing him, but he opened his eyes to see Rebecca silently placing a stack of folders on his desk. He shut his eyes once again as she turned around. He controlled his breathing to still appear asleep as he heard her near him.

He felt her heat at his side, but she didn't lean over him to wake him or say his name. Instead he heard a rustle and soon felt something covering him and her fingers brushing his chest. Then they were on his face as she removed his glasses. His heart skipped a beat at the gentle caress of her fingertips.

He cracked his eyes enough to see the soft smile on her lips before she turned and silently left. She had pulled the blanket from the top of the couch and covered him. He smiled in childish contentment with a heart that felt light. Scarecrow was unusually quiet, but Jonathan wasn't particularly disturbed by this. Instead he relished the silence and closed his eyes to be stolen by slumber again.


	11. XI

_**Women and men(both dong and ding)  
**__**summer autumn winter spring  
**__**reaped their sowing and went their came  
**__**sun moon stars rain  
**_--"anyone lived in a pretty how town" by e. e. cummings--

* * *

Spring was supposed to be a time of happiness, a time of new beginnings. Life began anew or was created. Yet the opposite was posed in the shadows always, a being that lived by the rule of no season. It would conquer no matter the time of day or temperature of the year.

Becky watched the gurney pass her desk. Her hands stilled in their movement across the keyboard as her eyes focused on the ivory sheet, stark and white as it spread. It outlined a still body beneath, a being no longer breathing. Becky couldn't tear her eyes away as she watched the retreat of the corpse. Her attention was glued there unaware of any other presence until a hand came to rest on her shoulder.

She jumped up; eyes flying to Dr. Crane who held out a file to her with an unreadable look on his face. She took the sleeve of papers from him, already aware it was to be placed in the cabinet of those who had died whilst in Arkham.

"Did she have any family members come?"

When Jonathan shook his head, she asked no more questions and stood up. As she walked down the hall, she wondered what it would be like to die alone.

"One day anyone died I guess and no one stooped to kiss his face. Busy folk buried them side by side. Little by little and was by was," she whispered, footsteps echoing emptily down the corridor.


	12. XII

_**I watch you sometimes  
when you don't know I'm watching  
and I see you. Who you are.  
**_--"You Are the Mountain" by Lisa Zaran--

* * *

"No, Jonny, just stay here a minute," Scarecrow said before Jonathan could step away from the door. He was peering into the room where he would be having a session with a teenaged patient who had checked herself in after a suicide attempt.

The patient was already seated. Becky had brought the child some water, as was requested, but it appeared the girl had begun to speak to his assistant.

_This is wrong,_ Jonathan commented.

"Feeling guilty for eavesdropping?" Scarecrow smirked. "Wait, don't say it. It's a private moment between the two of them, right? If you're so morally against it, I'll do it."

_Not with my body._

"**Our** body, Jonny. I'm as much a part of you as you are of me. I'm just curious about their discussion. I've never really witnessed Becky talking to someone. So please, could you lean down by the crack in the door and let us have a listen? Please, Jonny, before I decide I want to know too much and I do it for us?" His last statement was said with faux sweetness and Jonathan sighed.

_You are a creep, you know that? This doesn't look suspicious __**at all**__. Why do you want to know so much about her?_

Scarecrow whistled from within his mind. "Why do **you**?"


	13. XIII

_**We are the water, not the hard diamond,  
the one that is lost, not the one that stands still.  
**_--"We are the time. We are the famous" by Jorge Luis Borges--

* * *

He leaned down, placing his notepad on the floor. This door, a relic from the last time the Asylum had undergone renovations, was made to be soundproof. In all appearances it was, but Jonathan had learned in his few years as director that some of them had cracks that if you listened by you could hear everything that was being said in the room. And that was fact he found by accident; one he did not like to retell.

"I can't believe, I'm actually doing this." He muttered and his reply was Scarecrow smugly chuckling. "This is utterly wrong." Yet he quieted when he made out Becky's voice.

"Well, I think you're a beautiful young lady, and between you and me, boys at your age wouldn't know pretty if it bit them in the butt. Sometimes kids are just jealous and they hit back at you just because you're better than them, and sometimes they're mean just because you're different. Want to know something about me?" Her voice asked, gently. She must have been well-versed in dealing with children.

"See this cane," the girl must have nodded, "when I was born there was something wrong with me. My body couldn't use the nutrients it had very well. Do you know what Vitamin D is? It helps the body use Calcium which makes up the bones. Where I was born, we were really poor and my parents couldn't take care of me very well. They had to give me up for adoption, but I was already very sick.

"The doctor told me it was called Rickets, it's a disease that happens when don't have enough Vitamin D…"

Jonathan nodded to himself; that explained the cane. Bowed-legs were a symptom of the disease. No wonder she had to use to cane.

"The kids I went to school with used to tease me terribly for it. They called me horrible names, 'Cripple', 'Twisted', 'Freak'…and it got worse as I went through school, the names, pranks, the shoves. I was your classic bully story. I came home to my new parents and cried, and I begged them to home school me. They wanted me to be on par with the kids, and so they tried to stop the bullying, but they could never stop it completely. There will always be people who will bully you for some reason or another. The friends that I had helped me through it, and sometimes I wanted to give up too, but they were there. Just keep your head up, it does eventually get better."

Jonathan stood up, gathering his notepad. He opened the door casually, eyes never giving away that he had heard any of it, but in his head all he could hear were voices from the past. He could also still feel the punches.

"**Look at the Scarecrow with his rags! Scrawny freak! Twiggy Nerd…Scarecrow! Scarecrow! Scarecrow!"**


	14. XIV

_**The apparition of these faces in the crowd;  
**__**Petals on a wet, black bough.  
**_--"In a Station of the Metro" by Ezra Pound--

* * *

Something strange was definitely happening. She should have told Dr. Crane, about it, but with little evidence and not wanting to appear paranoid she didn't say anything. Yet just watching the guy outside the Asylum doors made her skin crawl.

There was something off about him. He seemed _**too**_ occupied, too much like he was trying to appear curious and lost. He had on a dark coat, a baseball cap, and a pair of sunglasses, and Becky felt her muscles tense every minute she watched him. An uncanny feeling gnawed in her stomach. He was spying on the Asylum she was sure of it. She could have sworn she'd been seeing this man, albeit in different disguises each time, for the time span of a week.

Her eyes went wide, when he paused in his movements and his head was aimed right at her. Was he staring in her eyes? Were his lips stretching in an unnerving smirk?

Then he twisted. A person came to his side. They seemed to have an animated discussion and he walked off with them. Becky relaxed, but the paranoid feeling remained in her system and like she had been doing for a few days, her eyes periodically shifted to stare out into the streets of the Narrows, excepting the appearance of the man again.

She just knew it was the same guy she had been seeing since Wednesday of last week.


	15. XV

_**Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not  
Speak, and my eyes failed…  
**_--"The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot--

* * *

Jonathan's glasses rested in the collar of his sweater vest as he drove. He only needed them for reading, but found it simpler to always wear them. Scarecrow, on the other hand, hated them so whenever he could, he'd remove them.

"So, Jonny," The alter spoke as he drove, watching the road through the sweeping windshield wipers, "it's Friday night. No work until Monday, what are we going to do?" He had an inkling he knew what Jonathan was going to say. Jonathan must have too, because Scarecrow could feel the man's irritation.

_Do I have to answer that?_

Scarecrow hummed, "Well, if your reply is going to be, go home, cook dinner, and watch the history channel like the hermit you are, then no. I don't want to head home, Jonny, I want out on the town, I want to have fun."

_You just want to get laid._

"Jonny! Did you just use the word **laid**?!" Scarecrow chuckled, "But yes, Jonny, I would like that very much, but not now. I'm saving us for our little mouse…Besides, it'd do wonders for you, relieve a lot of that tension, Jonny."

Unamused silence chirped from Jonathan's end. Scarecrow shook his head and frowned both because of Jonathan and the weather; what had been sprinkles earlier was now a downpour. Well, he didn't care. He was determined to do something other than mope around at home like Jonathan insisted on doing. The guy could get out every now and then; it wouldn't kill him.

"I think I want a drink. And maybe I'll flirt a little, give you a nice reputation."

_Define your definition of __**nice**__ because I think we've have a communication barrier there. I don't think my idea matches yours._

"Oh, because flirting is going to ruin your image as Mr. Stick-up-his-ass…We could always call our little mouse up, invite her out for a night."

_Can you stop calling her "our little mouse"?_

"What, you don't like it?"

_You make her sound like our prey._

Scarecrow chuckled darkly. "Step into my parlor said the spider to the fly…Oh, Jon, I won't hurt her. I keep telling you and when I have I ever steered you wrong? Hm? Now, I can't promise screams won't be involved, but they won't be horrified screams…What no comment to that?"

_Anything I say will immediately be reversed by you. If I stop responding, maybe you'll stop. You act out for attention, thus starve you of your goal and the behavior will stop._

"That simple, huh?" Scarecrow laughed, "You just keeping telling yourself that, Jons. I hate to say it, Dr. Crane, but I don't there's any hope for me. I think I'm rather incurable."

_More like insufferable._

Scarecrow grinned, "Oh someone's getting mad."

_Mad, no, ir—_

"Well, well," Scarecrow smirked, his eyes catching on a pair of flashing lights on the shoulder of the road. He heard Jonathan fall utterly quiet at the sight he saw.

There on the side of the road stood Becky, her image clear despite the rain. Her crimson sports car had its emergency lights on. Scarecrow pulled Jonathan's white sedan to the shoulder, just ahead of her own car. He rolled down the window to his side, seeing Becky move from the rearview mirror as he came to a stop.

'Looks like our little mouse has had some car trouble, and what do you know, right in our path too.' He stated simply, and then grinned.

"Dr. Crane?" Becky leaned into the passenger side window, eyes wide in surprise.

Scarecrow offered her a smile falling once again into Jonathan's cadence, "Ms. Albright, this is peculiar. Having some trouble?"

She flushed and nodded, glancing back at her car. She attempted to wipe away wet, clinging strands of hair from her face. "A wrecker's on its way."

Scarecrow unlocked the door and nodded, "Why don't you get in, it's raining rather heavily. I can wait with you until the wrecker arrives, and besides you'll need some way of getting home, hm?"

Becky nodded and opened the door. She looked at herself sheepishly, placing her cane in first and then getting in—she was thoroughly soaked. "I'm sorry about the water." She awkwardly took her seat.

Yet Scarecrow said nothing, only watched her. Her hair was drenched; it clung to her cheeks in scarlet waves. The contrast of it against her pale complexion brought out the hue of her lips, the freckles that were dusted across her nose.

How could this be taking his breath? She was soaked, hair in disarray, and she was shivering. How was that even remotely—wait, shivering? He saw the tremors rack her body. He wordlessly grabbed Jon's suit coat from the back seat and leaned over her. He brought it to her shoulders and she took it, pulling it closer around her.

"Thank you," she smiled. And he couldn't resist it; Scarecrow brought his hand up to her face. The back touched her cheek and her lips parted in surprise as he stared earnestly into her eyes.

She was asking for it. She could allow him one taste. He longed for a sampling of her lips. He inclined his head just slightly and…

He was pulled back into Jonathan's mind. For the first in his life he felt utterly betrayed and shocked. He screamed in absolute fury.


	16. XVI

_**I woke – and chide my honest fingers,  
**__**The Gem was gone  
**__**And now, an Amethyst remembrance  
**__**Is all I own.  
**_--"I Held a Jewel" by Emily Dickinson--

* * *

Jonathan heard Scarecrow scream in his ears, felt the man try to gain control again. He clenched his jaw, pursing his lips against the onslaught of fury. He still felt the racing of his heart and the heady effects of desire.

**_What the fuck?! JONATHAN! YOU BASTARD! LET ME OUT! NOW!_**

'No.' Jonathan ordered coolly to his alter, mustering all his authority.

He stared down at Becky. Her eyes were wide, lips still parted, and a rosy hue had alighted on her cheeks. He could feel it against his knuckles. It would be simple to kiss her. She wasn't moving away, wasn't struggling. So why had he stopped Scarecrow?

He had never known anything his alter wanted more than the girl before him. At that Scarecrow seemed to calm just slightly.

_**Kiss her, Jonny. You want her as badly as I do. I know your every desire…Kiss her.**_

Jonathan closed his eyes, when he reopened them he let his hand fall. He felt Scarecrow's irritation at that, slowly beginning to simmer.

"You're cold," he said to her simply and returned fully to his seat. He turned on the heat and sat back. An awkward silence filled the space.

What could he say?

_**Why didn't you kiss her?! What the hell is the matter with you?! She was asking for it!**_

From his rearview mirror he saw the flashing lights of the wrecker. Becky shed the coat and stepped out of the vehicle shortly to speak to the driver. Jonathan watched her go.

"I don't know." He whispered.


	17. XVII

…_**I was neither  
**__**Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,  
**__**Looking into the heart of light, the silence.  
**_--"The Waste Land" by T.S. Eliot—

* * *

His dark eyes had stared intensely into hers. She had seen his intentions, the flickering of his attention to her lips. Blood rushed to her face and butterflies erupted in her stomach. She wouldn't have fought off his advance; no she would have welcomed it. But suddenly those dark eyes had lightened. The longing had remained, but along with it came surprise and panic. He seemed to struggle with himself, but when he blinked his hand fell.

"You're cold," he commented and then leaned back, switching on the heat as he did.

She could only watch, confused. Had he changed his mind? She had felt for sure that he was going to kiss her, but—

The lights of the wrecker behind them saved her momentarily from the discomfort that had fallen in the car, a feeling of unresolved tension that crawled across her skin. She shed Jonathan's coat and stepped from the sedan. Yet, it was only for a short time; all she did was direct the wrecker to a mechanic and then she was once again back in the vehicle with Jonathan who seemed even more uncomfortable than before. She fingered the material of his jacket.

"You can put it back on, Ms. Albright, I actually don't know why you took it off in the first place. Now you're even more wet." He didn't even look at her, but glanced from the corner of his eyes.

She drew it over her shoulders, "I guess I didn't want to get it wet any more than I already had." Jonathan didn't say anything to that. She felt the motor purr and then he was pulling back into the roadway.

"Where am I taking you?"

"I live in the apartment complex off Vine Street, do you know where that is?"

Jonathan nodded, but said nothing more. Becky huddled into his jacket, secretly soothed by the scents that surrounded her. The smells of Arkham faintly covered the material: alcohol and antibacterial soap, but more than anything the damp material was permeated with the smell of his fabric softener. She peered over the rim of his collar; it was still uncomfortable in the vehicle. She clenched the cloth even tighter around her.

"What fabric softener do you use?"

Her question almost seemed to be sucked into the silence, but she noticed Jonathan's brow furrow above his newly replaced glasses. She swallowed thickly. "It smells very nice."

"…Snuggle," Jonathan answered slowly after a moment, "White Lavender and Sandalwood Twist…"

Becky hummed in response and then quieted again. That hadn't worked, it seemed. She sank lower in her seat. Had she seemed too surprised at his advance? Did he think she would reject him? Was he acting so distant because he thought she didn't want him? Her fingers twitched in their grasp at each question. She glanced back at Jonathan and noticed his stare drift to her before swiftly returning to the road.

She was going to have to do something, and the fluttering in her stomach told her exactly what. Instantly anxiety began to gnaw at her, but she would do it. She'd show him just how she felt about him.

She tried to ignore the voice telling her that maybe she was presuming too much, the whisper that said maybe he was acting that way because he actually didn't like her. She was going to take the risk, and deal with that situation if it raised its head.

When he pulled into the parking garage of her apartment building and put the car in park momentarily, she took a deep breath. It was now or never. She shrugged off his jacket and offered him a smile.

"Thanks for the ride." But instead of turning away she turned towards him and leaning forward cupped his cheeks in both her hands. He gasped and she saw his eyes widen. She wouldn't be discouraged, though. She looked into those eyes until she was a breath away and then closed her own, gently pressing her lips to his.


	18. XVIII

_**I see a wild civility;  
**__**Do more bewitch me than when art  
**__**Is too precise in every part.  
**_--"Delight in Disorder" by Robert Herrick--

* * *

It was a chaste kiss. A soft pressure against his lips, but it was enough. She was clearly blushing when she pulled back and twisted to exit the car, but her nervousness turned into surprise when he gripped her wrist firmly, effectively stopping her departure. She turned back around and that was when his other hand grabbed her waist.

He leaned over his seat and pressed her gently against the door, bringing his mouth to her ear. "Where do you think you're going, you tempting little mouse," he whispered playfully.

He let his lips ghost over the appendage as he spoke and he felt her shiver even more than she already was, but she didn't pull away. He grinned against her ear and brought his hand from her waist, replacing it on her cheek. "You didn't give me enough time to react, Becky. I'm going to have to remedy that." He tilted her head up and placed a heated kiss at the curve of her jaw. He hummed when at the cute little gasp he got in return and then pulled back, readjusting his glasses.

"One day, I promise I'll repay you more appropriately, but it's getting rather late. Have a good night, Becky." He grinned casually at her, watching her color and then she was fumbling from her seat and out of the car.

The strange thing that about the moment: Scarecrow was still in Jonathan's mind. That had been Jon. Scarecrow was utterly silent. That had been Jon?! Jon had—

For the second time that night Scarecrow was shocked, though for a different reason.

_You were right, Scarecrow, I do want her. So…how did I do?_

"Wonderful," Scarecrow gaped, "absolutely…Where the hell'd that come from?! Damn, Jonny, I didn't know you had it in you!"

And he felt Jonathan grin in happiness. Gosh, he could just pinch that boy's cheeks; only he could go from suavely confident to heart-gushing adorable in the span of a minute.


	19. XIX

"_**Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard**_

_**Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on…**_

--"Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats--

* * *

Jonathan ran his fingers through his damp hair, pushing back his bangs as he sighed. He'd just arrived back in his apartment and had dropped his suitcase by the door. He could still see Becky in his car; hear her reactions to his bold behavior. He felt heat rise to his face and his stomach clenched as he switched on the light. He uncuffed his sleeves. All he could think about was her and how much…

_**You wished you grabbed her and plundered that mouth don't you?**_

Jonathan twisted around and stared as Scarecrow regarded him knowingly from a lounging position on his couch. The man grinned at him and sat up.

_**You want to kiss her.**_

Jonathan once again sighed and nodded, "I do, very much. Crow, I still see her flushed freckled face, her beautiful eyes. What have you done to me?"

Scarecrow chuckled, _**Me? I've not done a thing.**_

Jonathan shook his head, "You remember when she wore that purple dress?" Scarecrow purred in acknowledgement. "If you had touched her then, if you had touched her at any point, I couldn't have blamed you. Because you're right. I want to kiss those lips, I want to touch her, I want to hear her say our name. I want to leave this apartment and drive back to hers and return her kisses and…"

_**And? **_Scarecrow pressed hopefully. Jonathan gulped and turned his gaze away.

"I…need a cold shower."

Scarecrow laughed.

* * *

_Now I have a question. I'm planning on bringing in Ra's al Ghul. So the question is AU or canon? This story can go either way! Readers, you choose!_


	20. XX

_**All around me, the sky with its deep shade of dark.  
The stars.  
**_--"Tenderness" by Lisa Zaran--

* * *

Becky watched the sedan leave the parking lot, her face on fire and her heart thundering. Her skin tingled from where she'd felt his kiss on her jaw. Her lips buzzed from touching his. They had been so soft and warm. Her chest fluttered at the thought of him responding, though he hadn't.

"**One day, I promise I'll repay you more appropriately…"**

Those words of his echoed in her mind and she shook her head, bringing herself back to reality for a moment. She realized she was cold. The cool air of the evening was blowing though the parking garage and the rain was still falling hard. It reverberated off the cement walls as Becky finally pulled herself to move, placing her cane before her each step. She stared at in and suddenly was struck with awe.

Did Jonathan really like her, despite the cane? He never asked why she used it, never said a word. He just accepted it. She paused. He accepted her, her heart warmed even further. Now along with the fear and excitement for Monday morning another emotion took root.

Acceptance, someone finally accepted her without judgment. Her affection for Jonathan grew. She prayed by Monday he wouldn't rethink his vow, and yet her stomach was alit with the prospect with just how he was going to repay her and how long she'd have to wait.

But his eyes had promised her and his mouth was inviting. And most importantly his heart was open. She smiled, tears gathering in her eyes. She looked like a drowning victim, she was soaked and freezing; but she'd never felt happier in her life.


	21. XXI

_**How beautiful it is,  
the ghost of your voice,  
haunting this empty valley.  
**_--"The Blues Are The Same" by Lisa Zaran--

* * *

"So," Scarecrow raised a brow as Jonathan shuffled into the bedroom, still towel-drying his hair, "did the shower work?"

Without further hesitation Jon threw his towel aside and fell into the bed. He buried his head into his pillow and muttered a reply.

"I'm sorry I didn't quite catch that."

Jonathan twisted his head and glared at his alter who was projected onto the bed, crossed-legged and head tilted to him.

_You know what I said, 'Crow! You know damn well, what I said._

"Jonny, you're getting a mouth on you, you know that? **Frustrated**?" He grinned.

_You are disgusting. No! The shower didn't work, I still want to drive over there, press her against a wall, and…have my way with her!_

"Can you repeat that last part?" He asked leaning backwards.

_Go to hell. Your thoughts have already infected me enough._

"We've been to Hell, got the t-shirt, the cup cozy, and put Satan in a home."

Jonathan snorted, _As much fun as imagining Granny Keeny as the devil is...it's not helping…_

"You remind me of a teenaged-boy."

_Look who's talking, the human sex book…I'm a virgin. And before you accuse me of being otherwise, I don't count your use of my body to sleep with that woman that one time…I still haven't forgiven you for that._

"You liked her too! But whatever…Well, Jonny, we could always drive to our little mouse's apartment."

_Oh, yes, Scarecrow, wonderful idea. I'm going to get into my car, drive to Becky's apartment at half past midnight because I obviously __**know**__ her apartment number, and knock on her door. Then after the initial shock that I'm there wears off I'm going to tell her, 'Becky you arouse me, let's have sex, so I can stop myself and/or my alter ego from throwing you onto any stable, flat surface and ravishing you the next time we meet.'…What a great idea!_

"Well, you could be less crude about it."

…_You are so childish! I was being sarcastic and you know it! It's too soon to do anything like that! And who are you to tell **me **about being crude?_

"You! I'm you! I keep telling you that. Jonathan, go to sleep, sort your thoughts, but know one thing. I am the embodiment of all your desires and I will not be silent until you figure out a way to satisfy me in a way that suits us both. You think I annoy you, it's mutual, Jonny…so mutual."

There was silence. Scarecrow frowned, "I know you're awake."

_Yes, and I heard everything you said. But if you'd like me to try and figure out this solution, you're going to have to let me sleep._

"Fine, but Jonny, I don't just desire Becky for pleasure. Desires run shallow and deep. We want companionship, we want love. I want to love her, you want to love her. You're tired of being alone…and so am I. Give it a chance, she's not stringing you because she's been just as played as you. Two fiddles make the sweetest harmony."


	22. XXII

_**A cicada sends  
**__**its sawing song  
**__**high into the empty air.  
**_--"Ode to Enchanted Light" by Pablo Neruda--

* * *

It was five in the morning and Jonathan found himself staring half-heartedly from his bed. The sun hadn't begun peeking through his thin curtains yet, but he was fully awake. Scarecrow, however, was still sleeping. He'd probably fallen asleep only minutes ago, needing less sleep than Jon.

Jonathan wanted to do nothing more than close his eyes and fall back into his dreams which, despite his mindset before falling asleep, were perfectly void of any hot, tempting fantasies. He couldn't go back to sleep, though, and aware of this he finally sighed and left the bed.

He was used to days like these, getting little sleep but aroused at early hours. It was a trait he had possessed since childhood, a mechanism that had probably been kept because it kept him out of more trouble with his Granny then. Early to bed, early to rise, kept him safe and away from Granny's eyes and thus in her graces for a little while, he recited in his head as he stretched. He rubbed his face feeling stubble already gracing his jaw line and shook his head; he didn't feel like shaving.

He nimbly picked his way through his room, picking up clothes as he went. It was a morning routine, no matter the hour. As he passed the living area of his flat, he threw the pile of clothes in a gray basket to his side. The house was silent, but not eerily. Actually it was refreshing, as it always had been on the occasions he was woken without the hum of Scarecrow in his ears. He could think for himself without input, without his Id whining about its desires.

He liked peace and quiet. He liked his flat, a place of his own where it was always safe. He liked feeling secure and he relished in his early morning appreciation as he stepped into the kitchen yawning away the last visages of sleep. He opened a cupboard and pulled out a shiny pan, his reflection bouncing off another as he removed the cooking tool. His eyes caught on his image and like he was apt to do, he studied it.

It gave away no indication of his self-diagnosed Multiple Personality Disorder; one couldn't tell from the reflection that instead of one Jonathan Crane there was actually two. Perhaps not in appearance, but he could feel it.

It was the knowledge of missing a piece of yourself, something crucial, and it lied at your fingertips, but despite being so close that you can touch it and hold it, you had no idea how to put the pieces back together because you lost the tube of superglue.


	23. XXIII

"…_**On the morrow **__he__** will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."  
**__**Then the bird said "Nevermore."  
**_-"The Raven" by Edgar A. Poe-

* * *

Scarecrow watched as Jonathan rummaged through the refrigerator, he puckered his lips in thought from his position behind the man. "I have a question that has been plaguing scholars for centuries."

Jonathan glanced over his shoulder and Scarecrow leaned back on the counter, "What has Jonny in his PJs cleaning the fridge at nine in the morning?"

"The sooner it gets done, the better," Jonathan frowned and returned to his task.

Scarecrow sighed, "It's _**nine**_ in the morning, Jon! You should still be in bed or just making breakfast. Do you enjoy living outside the norm? You've got to be—"

Jonathan stood up, "You're cleanly too."

"Yes, because cleanliness is next to Godliness and since I'm no saint, I can at least be neat. But this is pushing it. When did ya wake up this morning?"

"Five."

Scarecrow sighed, "Nightmare?"

Jonathan shook his head, "No I just couldn't sleep."

"Ah, couldn't get Becky outta your head?" Scarecrow winked.

"Wrong again."

Scarecrow frowned, "Well something's up. You don't wake up so early unless you're going to work **or** something's bothering ya. So spill, it's not going to go away and if you don't I can always peer into that head of yours."

Jonathan shut the refrigerator and man and alter stared at each other. Finally Jonathan sighed, "If the day ever comes where we're one personality again, am I going to be a big pervert?"

Scarecrow blinked and then he laughed, he laughed until his lungs hurt and he cried. But once that was over he stared at Jon again through wet eyelashes. Instantly he sobered. Scarecrow could feel the real question Jonathan wanted to ask.

_When we become whole what's going to happen to me? Will the stronger personality occlude the weaker?_

Was there a stronger and weaker personality between them? Scarecrow didn't know, so he stayed silent, unsure how to answer. Yet, for reason, he felt unnerved and paranoid.

* * *

_(A/N): Updates will come every Tuesday and Thursday from now on so I have time to write these chapters to my satisfaction and also work on the the other writing projects I have. Thanks for sticking by me and I apologize for the revisions you will have to endure. Also I am pondering changing my penname. I may no longer be known as **Heart of Friendship**, but as **Pierides**. It is a hard change since I have had the name Heart of Friendship since I began writing on this site and I'm still rather torn on the final decision, however._

_Have a wonderous day and I will see you all on Thursday!_


	24. XXIV

_**Women and men(both little and small)  
cared for anyone not at all  
they sowed their isn't they reaped their same  
sun moon stars rain  
**_-"anyone lived in a pretty how town" by e.e. cummings-

* * *

The first thing she did come Saturday was hail a cab and go to the grocery store. For Becky, Saturday was grocery day; she bought foods in bulk only if they were nonperishable. Much of what she enjoyed, however, was perishable and she'd learned quickly upon leaving the nest that buying only enough to last her through the week was the best course of action. It was for this reason that she found herself, leaning on her cold, metal buggy as she awaited her turn in the grocery line.

Another thing she'd learned was that Saturday was a popular grocery day, but it never bothered her. It was the day right after the rush of the work week, and she was happy to take it slow, be more courteous, and wait her turn with less pestilence.

She allowed her eyes to roam over the magazines as the beep of scanners sounded in the background like a discordant melody.

"Mommy," a child's voice ahead of her sounded. "Mommy, can I have a candy bar?"

Becky would have paid little attention to child, if his voice hadn't been hesitant. Her ears pricked, and she listened, unsure what reaction she was looking for. She heard a female sigh and then she glanced up to see it was the woman right in front of her, who had a only a few items. Her son was standing close to her side, but his eyes lingered on the chocolate within his reach and his fingers were snagged on the box of Hershey bars.

"I know you want one," the woman patted the boy's blonde hair, "but Dad only gave us enough money for what we already have, maybe next time, hm? I'll save up the change, what do you say?"

His fingers fell from the box and he nodded, his head falling. Becky watched him clutch his mother's skirt as she placed her items on the conveyor belt.

The woman and child were leaving as the cashier began ringing up Becky items; she saw them out of the corner of her eye. She smiled softly and just as the cashier was scanning her last item, a carton of milk, she reached down and pulled a Hershey's bar from its box and handed it to the man.

"I'd like this too."

She quickly paid and pushed her buggy from the counter. As fast as she could she left the store, her eyes glancing to the sides for the little boy and his mother. She grinned when she saw them.

"Excuse me, miss!" She called, pushing her buggy towards them. The woman turned and stared at her, instinctively touching her son's shoulder. Becky nodded politely to them once she caught up. She reached into the closest bag to her and pulled out the candy bar.

"I think you forgot something." She stared at the little boy and held out the candy.

His mother smiled kindly, but it was the boy's reaction that caused Becky's heart to gush with warmth. His gray eyes widened and fill with happiness as he smiled the largest smile he could manage. Instantly she knew she'd done the right thing.


	25. XXV

_**What hope is hidden in your heart…What dream do you desire?  
**_-"Whatever You Want" by James J. Metcalfe-

* * *

Jonathan was pulling on a crisp white shirt when his cell phone began to ring from atop his nightstand. He glanced at the clock quickly as he grabbed the object and flipped it open. Who would be calling him at six-thirty in the morning? He didn't recognize the number, but he held it up to his ear anyway.

"Hello?"

His eyes went wide at the voice that timidly spoke after his short greeting, "Dr. Crane? Uh, good morning."

_**Becky?**_

Scarecrow's excitement shot through him, but he reigned in his emotions and spoke calmly, "Good morning to you, Ms. Albright. I must say, this is unexpected."

"I know," her voice clearly revealed her embarrassment and Jonathan could almost picture her movements—her head falling forward and her curls coming to shade her eyes as her cheeks colored. "I hope I'm not bothering you."

"Of course not, I was just…getting ready to come in. Do you need me to pick up something for you or anything?"

He heard her sharp intake of her breath, the sign that she was about to ask him something she was hesitant to. He tilted his head and began to button up his shirt as he waited on her request.

"My car's still in the shop. They said it'll probably be fixed this afternoon, but I was wondering…if you didn't live too far from me if you'd mind picking me up. It's totally fine if you do, I can call a cab."

_**Oh, this is too good. You can't pass this up, Jonny. We live only a few miles away. Tell her we'll get her.**_

'I intend to.' Jonathan smiled as he flicked the last button through its hole and began looking for his tie. "I live only a few minutes away, Ms. Albright. It's no trouble, but," he quickly channeled Scarecrow, "I must ask for a favor if I do this." He heard Scarecrow snicker in glee at the thought that was running through his head.

"Um, okay?" Her voice was uncertain and a little frightened. Jonathan laughed at her unnecessary worry.

"If I take you work then you must allow me to take you out to lunch today."

"Alright," he could picture the flush on her face and the smile on her lips.

He spotted his tie hanging on his mirror and grabbed his phone once to straighten his posture, "Good, I'll see you in about ten minutes, traffic willing."

"Thank you, Dr. Crane."

"Jonathan, Becky. You can call me Jonathan."

"Okay. See ya in a few, Jonathan." She replied with a smile in her voice.

_**Atta boy, Jonny! **_

He clicked the phone shut.


	26. XXVI

_****_

Beauty is truth, truth beauty,—that is all  
_**Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.  
**_-"Ode on a Grecian Urn" by John Keats-

* * *

The sun was orange in the sky as it rose, and Scarecrow watched it as Jonathan drove, Becky at his side. Unlike Friday evening, the car wasn't filled with an awkward tension. Now it was full with an underlying anticipation. His gaze drifted to Becky to who was also staring out her own window.

"Jon?" She spoke over the low hum of the radio station that was giving the morning news. Jonathan glanced over to her and she smiled demurely, "You think I could chose where we eat lunch?"

He shrugged, "If you'd like."

"Do you like Sub sandwiches?"

He grinned, "I could go for a sub."

"Well, just a block away from Arkham there's this little family owned deli market. They have the best I've ever had. I thought we could eat there because it's really convenient and not too pricy."

"Price wasn't any consequence."

She tilted her head and went back to staring out the window, "Maybe not to you, but I don't need fancy restaurants to impress me."

Scarecrow was really enjoying this morning. She was taking Jon's mind from the stress of the everyday. He already seemed more relaxed and open and for that Scarecrow was coming to like Becky even more. He already yearned for her in more ways than just physically, but he knew Jonathan was still scared, but he was holding himself well.

Jonathan flipped on his blinker and pulled into the exit lane, "Money doesn't impress you, hm, interesting. What does gain your respect?"

She looked over her shoulder with an infectious smile, "That's for me to know and you to find out."

Scarecrow chuckled. Oh yes, he really liked this girl. She'd be good for Jonathan and she was everything Scarecrow wanted body and soul. Now if only Jonny would let him have a hand wooing the woman. He wasn't selfish and he wanted Jonathan to get to know her too, it would help him to break from his shell, but Scarecrow wanted to experience the girl in person in this new, more intimate way.

He would wait, though. This engagement was like a dance. It required certain things: instinct, caution, and especially patience.


	27. XXVII

_**There is a tree, by day,**_  
_**That, at night,**_  
_**Has a shadow...**_  
—"Tenebris" by Angelina Weld Grimké

* * *

Her eyes glanced at the computer clock and her gut clenched in excitment. Lunch break was only minutes away. It'd been hard enough to focus on her work before, now the anxiety was tenfold. Would Jon like the deli? What would they talk about? Would he kiss her this time? She felt like a girl about to go on her first date, and she had to chuckle softly to herself at a thought that raced through her head. Her mother had always wanted her to snare a doctor.

Yet his prestige wasn't what attracted her, no Jon's ability to be both bold and shy had caught her. He listened and she knew he was at least physically attracted to her, she could see it in his eyes, especially when they darkened.

She stood up to head to the bathroom to quickly make sure she still looked put together, but the moment her gaze happened to glance to the entrance doors, she froze.

Instantly she felt ice trickle down her spine.

He was back! And there was no denying it wasn't the guy she'd been seeing for over a week now. His outfit was one he'd worn before. He was still wearing his dark glasses, but the cap was gone revealing his graying brown hair. She stared at him and soon enough, he was doing the same to her. Her stomach fell further now in anxiety, but she shook her head. She needed to get her act together.

Maybe she was misjudging him. Sure, he looked creepy, but that didn't mean he was stalking the asylum or anything. Maybe he needed help. She took a deep breath. This was Arkham Asylum and if someone was in need of help, she shouldn't ignore them, think they're stalker, and then shy away. She began walking to the entrance.

"Excuse me, sir," she called from the door and smiled kindly at the man, "I've noticed you out here before. Do you need anything?"

The man removed his glasses and Becky saw his blue eyes catch the sunlight. He smiled charmingly.

"No, but thank you, Miss. I'm merely trying to gain my bearings; does a Dr. Jonathan Crane work here?"

Becky nodded, "He does, are you an acquaintance of his?"

"You could say that. Thank you, you have nice day, Miss. I'll return at a more convenient time."

Becky watched him nod his head and then turn and go. She watched him until a gentle hand took her shoulder. She whipped around and met the figure of Jonathan. His eyes were watching the man now.

"Do you know him?" Jonathan simply asked in conversation.

Becky shook her head, "No, but he said he knew you, even asked about you. Do you recognize him?"

"No, did you get a name?"

"He left before I could." Her face puckered in confusion. "I wonder what he wants."

Jonathan shrugged, "I don't know. I'm sure if he'll eventually come back. You ready for lunch?"

Becky grinned, easily pushing what had just happened out of her head. She nodded and Jonathan smiled and held the door for her and they left.

* * *

_Lunch date next chapter, it would have been this one, but my muse had other plans. She wanted Ra's to make a small appearance before he shows up again. _

_In other news, I've caught myself up in chapters! I hope to start receiving your reviews again once I upload Ch. 28. Thanks for sticking with me through the revisions. I hope you like slower pace that I took for now. The countdown 'til the reintroduction of Ra's ultimate plan starts now during which there may be another date between the two._


	28. XXVIII

…_**Superstition saw  
**__**Something that it had never seen before:  
**__**Brown eyes that loved without a trace of fear,  
**__**Beauty so sudden for that time of year.  
**_—"November Cotton Flower" by Jean Toomer

* * *

He had often heard that looks could be deceiving. The looks were the knowledge that the deli Becky had suggested was found in the Narrows, but upon entering he was pleasantly surprised.

_**Swanky.**_

'Yes, it is rather nice.' Jon nodded to himself as his eyes took in the pristine interior. He looked down at Becky to who offered him a smile.

"Have any preference on seating?"

He shook his head, "No, where would you like to sit?"

She took his hand, which he flushed at lightly—Scarecrow chuckled in affection—and followed her to a window seat. "Here alright?"

"Fine with me," he nodded and he removed his hand nervously from hers and grabbed one of the chairs. He pulled it out for her. She smiled slightly in thanks and sat down. "So what would you like?" He asked as he slid her closer to the table before walking to the seat across from her and beginning to shed his blazer.

"A French Anjou please with sweet tea." She replied and Jonathan nodded, turning around to head to the front so he could order for them. The cashier offered him a knowing smile and he could feel the eyes of the other customers on him as well. He returned the gestures shyly and quickly ordered. When he was done he turned around and cast a smile at Becky, despite how tense he actually felt.

'What am I going to say to her when I sit down?' He asked Scarecrow desperately. He could sense the reassurance around him instantly.

_**Alright, here's some advice to get the ball rolling if you get over there and still can't think of anything: compliment her; her hair, her eyes, anything.**_

Jonathan chuckled, 'She is very pretty today.' She had on a simple white blouse but it complimented her skin tone, and the sunlight highlighted her copper curls.

_**Very much, but I always think our little mouse is rather attractive.**_

'How does she do it? She was even beautiful soaked.'

Scarecrow purred, _**Especially then. Be careful, though, Jonny don't get yourself too excited like before.**_

Jonathan inwardly choked. He clearly remembered the thoughts he had had that particular night, and at the moment he didn't need them.

_**Well, Jonny, **_Scarecrow snickered, _**normally I'd tell you you need to get laid and fast, but in this context that really wouldn't help. You'd just want more and the thoughts would invade your skull just as often if not ceaselessly for a while.**_

'I'm comforted by your amusement.' He replied flatly.

_**I'm sorry, but Jonny **__you__** actually lusting after a woman is just so…cute.**_ He was interrupted as the cashier brought them their sandwiches and drinks, which Jonathan grabbed and began making his way back to the table. Jonathan inwardly scowled at Scarecrow, but the man was less than angry. _**I want to thank her for bringing you out of that turtle shell you've been hidin' in.**_

Jonathan ignored him as he had made it back to Becky. He placed her sweet tea and sub with dipping sauce in front of her and then arranged his own food.

"Thanks for agreeing to come to lunch with me," he said as he took his own seat. He supposed he could start there.

Becky shook her head with a smile as she picked up a segment and dipped it into the sauce, "It was the least I could do in return for you picking me up, besides I would have said yes even if you'd just sprung it on me while passing me in the hallway."

She blushed and took a bite of her sandwich, eating neatly Jonathan noted as he too bit into his turkey sub. He smiled, "Well perhaps we can make this a weekly outing, if you'd like. We can go out to lunch once a week."

"That sounds…nice," She flushed a shade darker.

_**Add in some dinners and other dates too.**_

"I would also love to take you to dinner sometime, somewhere fancy." He offered meekly.

_**You just want her in a dress like that purple one again.**_

'And you don't?' Scarecrow chuckled at the mock surprise in Jonathan's voice.

"Are you asking me on a date?" Her voice edged on shyness.

He nodded as she drank her sweet tea through a straw, "Yes." He kept the answer simple, fearing what he'd say were he not to stop talking.

"I'd love to go out with you sometime, Jon." He smiled at her reply and laughed nervously.

"Th-that's wonderful." He was relieved when she laughed too, but not in ridicule. She reached across the table and patted his hand, her own gesture shy.

Scarecrow and Jonathan were both amused at her own timidity. It was very endearing. Jonathan turned over his hand and grabbed hers. "I want to get to know you better, Becky. I want you to get to know me better. I believe it is the least I can do after you kissed me." He chuckled lightly.

Once again her cheeks took on a radiant hue of pink. "Oh, so I take it you really **did** enjoy that?" Her tone had fallen into a smoother cadence, her voice dropping as she tried to sound seductive. It worked. Jonathan felt his stomach do a flip-flop and when he met her hooded stare he knew exactly what he wanted to do.

His eyes fell to her lips; he had told her he wanted to repay the gesture. He could stand up, walk around the table, lean down, and kiss her. It would be so simple.

_**Do it. Do it, Jonny. If you don't, I will. Don't be nervous, she won't reject you.**_

It was like every bit of awkwardness he'd tried to dispel during his school years came back with a vengeance. He wanted to kiss her, but what if he fell on his face, what if missed her lips? It was all irrational, but with every moment he didn't answer the situation was threatened.

From within him Scarecrow sighed and without further ado took control. He stared up at Becky and smirked.

"Enjoy it," he chuckled and took off his glasses, setting them atop the table as he released her hand. He stood up and walked to her chair. "I did far more than enjoy it, my mouse." He stared down at her, one hand placed on the back of her chair. She craned her head, staring at him in anxious hope. He leaned down.

"I've not been able to get it off my mind, and I believe I made a promise." His other hand cupped her cheek and he brought his lips to hers. As soon as they had made contact he retreated and Jonathan was once again back. He was surprised for a moment until he felt her mouth react to his, then he let himself fully kiss her, it was innocent and chaste, but when he pulled back he couldn't deny to himself that he wanted more.

He stared into her dazed eyes and allowed himself one more kiss, "They're as soft as I remember," he licked his lips, "and sweet too." He knew it was sugar from the tea, but to see that flush on her cheeks unconsciously darken it made it worth it, even the whistle he got from the table across the room.

* * *

_I'm not dead! There is no excuse as to why I've waited this long. I just lost my inspiration for a few weeks, but it is back and I'll try and get on schedule again. Happy Fourth of July, all my American readers! Once again I apologize for such a long absence._

Oh, and this story has finally tipped 100 reviews! Thank you so much you guys! You're support means the world to me!


	29. XXIX

_**Emptying out  
each complicating part,**_

_**each little twist of mind inside,  
**__**each clenched fist…  
**_—"Clemente's Images" by Robert Creeley

* * *

The rest of the date had gone well, in Scarecrow's opinion. They had traded small talk for the rest of lunch.

Becky was the middle child of three. She'd been adopted when she was two years-old and had lived in Southern Pennsylvania before moving to Gotham when she was fourteen. Her favorite color was yellow because they reminded her of her favorite flowers which were Black-Eyed Susans. Her favorite book was the Wizard of Oz because her middle name was Dorothy and when she was younger she thought it made her special.

These were all good things to know, thought Scarecrow. Now they knew what flowers to get her on special occasions. He could just imagine the look on her face if they ever became more serious and he showered her bed with those petals. Normally one would do roses, but it would make her feel unique if he used her own favorite. It would be more romantic.

He knew they should get her gold jewelry instead of silver, she'd probably like it better. He also could affectionately call her his little Dorothy and muse that as a Scarecrow she would be perfect for him.

All wonderful, insightful things—and he wouldn't mind her in a little blue plaid dress either with a little higher than normal hem-line—but if that was true, then why did Jon look so distressed?

The man was currently cooking his nightly dinner, but the tenseness of his back and that fact he was not wearing his glasses all told Scarecrow that he was either stressed, anxious, or annoyed. And he couldn't be stressed; the day had gone well enough.

"Alright, I'm tired of watching ya." Scarecrow finally sighed, leaning back against the refrigerator. "What's the matter?"

He received no verbal answer, but Jonathan's head moved just slightly and he could feel that Jonathan's awareness had shifted. He waited a moment to see if the man would speak, but when he didn't the alter once again exhaled and walked towards him. "Jonny, I know something's wrong. You can't hide it. You're always trying to bottle up everything, but I can look into your head. You're not helping matters by being quiet, you know." He was about to place his hand on the man's shoulder, when Jonathan whipped around and glared at him.

"Why did you have to do it?" He snapped frustration in his voice.

Scarecrow raised a brow, "Why did I have to do what?"

"Why couldn't I kiss her?"

Scarecrow held no expression for a moment as the words locked into place, but then he grinned, "You did kiss her, Jonny. All I did was stand up, talk to her to reassure her that the mood wasn't broken, and put your lips there. You did the whole kissing part and after that little minor thing you did great."

Jonathan shook his head, "I want to be able to kiss her without your help! I'm so tired of you doing everything just because I hesitate!"

Scarecrow crossed his arms, "Jon, it takes time to gain confidence. You're going to be awkward, but I didn't want her to think she'd scared you away. She was beginning to lose her own nerve."

"Awkward? Time?" He turned back to the food. "You never had to gain confidence!"

Scarecrow blinked. No he didn't, but it was obvious why, right? That was his personality. It took him time to gain control. He was rash sometimes, didn't think before he spoke. He pursed his lips.

"This is about more than just me kissing Becky isn't it?" He asked softly. Jonathan's focus seemed to return with more vigor to the skillet he was cooking in. Scarecrow let his body relax and took a step closer. "You can tell me what's wrong. You can tell me anything. I'm you."

Jonathan shook his head, "No, you're not me. I'm Jonny and you're Scarecrow. You were never me and I…I'll never be you. I can talk so bold and sometimes I can act on impulse, but…I'm not as forward as you. And I, I sometimes don't know if I love Becky like you. What if we don't have the same tastes? What if I just want physical comfort, no strings attached? What if—"

Scarecrow took his shoulder and cut him off. Jon turned around and peered up at him, two men with the same face staring at one another. Scarecrow gazed intently into his eyes. "What are you afraid of?"

Jon bit his lip, deflating and his gaze fell, "Do you think she'll get tired of me and leave? What if you're the one she really wants?"

Scarecrow smiled in sympathy, "I don't think she'll get tired of you, Jonny. I think, in a way, yes she wants me, but she also wants you."

"But you don't know." His gaze flickered back to Scarecrow's and without hesitation he drew the man into his arms and Jonathan shuddered in tears.

There they stood the lost boy of the dirt roads and the scarecrow of the cornfields, both separate, both one, both afraid and lost in the end. Scarecrow closed his eyes and regretfully spoke.

"No, Jonny, I don't. I don't know."

* * *

_Comparison of Jon and Scarecrow is credited to both **Lasgalendil **and **The Talking Absol**. Without recalling your reviews for both this fic and another of mine, I never would have thought to compare them as I did (or it would have taken longer)!_

And thanks every reader and reviewer for the continuing hits, favorites, alerts, and reviews! They make day!


	30. XXX

_**The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,  
But I have promises to keep,  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.**_  
—"Stopping by Woods On a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost

* * *

There were no stars in Gotham, at least none that you could see. Urban pollution had choked the skies and even the moon, a sliver in the blackness, was turned an eerie color. Becky remembered her mother's distaste when they had come there. Her elder brother had scrunched his nose in disgust at the litter on the streets. The youngest of them; her sister who was hardly past a year-old, had nothing to compare it to. She was content.

Becky had been beyond angry. She had been uprooted after her last year of middle school. She was to be heading to a new high school where she knew no one. She hated it. She had hated her parents for uprooting the family. She had just gained friends who saved her from the torment of the bullies. It would be back to square one then. The taunts would start anew, the questions would begin again.

_**What's with the cane? Why aren't you in special classes? Cripple! Twisted! Freak! Freak! She can't play with us, she can't walk right. Why do I have to sit by the girl with the funny legs?**_

She had hated her parents. She had hated Gotham. She had learned that like the stars in the skies, the good memories were to be shadowed always by poison. Hope was there, but lost in the haziness of the city, the gritty darkness that kept her in at night. She had never had cause for a curfew in Hanover, the city she had used to live in.

Yet perhaps the move had taught her things. Not to be selfish, to be happy for the things she did have, and in the end that there were people who were worse than her. Everyone hid in anger. They hid embarrassment in anger, sadness in anger, everything in anger. Everyone was only protecting themselves.

Becky drove, now twenty-six through the streets of Gotham, back to her apartment in her newly fixed car. She realized that at times the city infected her like venom, but there were times it made her happy. The good times were only good because of the bad times. In a city like Gotham, you came to appreciate luck more. You saw the darkness and the light was brighter as a result. It made love all the sweeter and she knew she was falling for the mysterious Jonathan Crane who accepted her, respected her, and in some moments the man who hungered after her.

She clutched to the feelings because in Gotham the darkness could overshadow happiness in an instant. She had to live while she could, enjoy life, and keep believing the hope was there, even if she couldn't see it.


End file.
